Rainwater trickled down the cobblestone pavement, the red sphere atop the octagonal observatory room of Greenwich Observatory, nearly two hundred years old, descends at one in the afternoon sharp to synchronize time for the ships on the Thames, appearing like a blurry sunrise amidst the mist.
No one at the scene spoke, while on the player forum live stream, the comments were already in an uproar.
"Where's the picture, where's the picture? Why is it a black screen?! Moderators, do your job!"
"Damn it, I pay thousands every month for Whale Song's internet fees, and the network signal is like this?"
"Matrix (Whale Song President), when are you gonna die."
When Dr. Noah was still sitting in the rocket escape pod, he used his GOC privileges to turn off the video signal from the near-earth orbit spy satellites, causing the live stream to go black.
Forum players, watching with interest, suddenly had nothing, each one fuming and cursing Whale Song Guild for being incompetent.
